


Day watch

by Builder



Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [35]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, BAMF Laura Barton, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fever, Flu, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Laura Barton, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: When Laura enters the townhouse with her spare key, she expects to find Bucky tucked into bed.  Steve’s out of vacation and sick days down to the minute, and Bucky’s been shirking the therapy sessions he so desperately needs, so it’s come down to her to drive down from Paris to pick him up, take him to the psychologist’s office, and drag him out for a reward afterward, if just to delay his return to the stuffy bedroom.What she doesn’t expect, though, is to find Bucky rolled into a ball in the bed, facing away from her, and shivering under a mountain of blankets.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/760377
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

When Laura enters the townhouse with her spare key, she expects to find Bucky tucked into bed. Steve’s out of vacation and sick days down to the minute, and Bucky’s been shirking the therapy sessions he so desperately needs, so it’s come down to her to drive down from Paris to pick him up, take him to the psychologist’s office, and drag him out for a reward afterward, if just to delay his return to the stuffy bedroom.

What she doesn’t expect, though, is to find Bucky rolled into a ball in the bed, facing away from her, and shivering under a mountain of blankets. 

“Hi, James,” Laura whispers as she approaches. She doesn’t want to startle him, but the very stillness of the air tells her something is very wrong. She pauses and whips out her phone to email Bucky’s therapist, saying they’ll be late at the very least. Probably absent. She copies Steve on the message and hits send, then returns the device to her pocket and takes charge of the situation at hand. 

“James?” Laura lays a hand on his shoulder, slightly taken aback at the heat rising through the layers of quilted fabric. She carefully peels back a couple of the blankets and lays her palm on Bucky’s stump shoulder, gently rocking back and forth. “I’m here, ok? It’s Laura.”

“Hmmph.” It’s neither a groan nor a sigh, but sort of a combination of both. The neckline of Bucky’s t-shirt is damp with sweat, and now that the covers are removed, Laura can smell the tang of bile meeting the open air. She stands on her toes to look over him, and her heart drops with immediate empathy as she takes in the pale face with fever-pink cheeks and the line of vomit trailing across the edge of the mattress and onto the floor.

“It’s alright,” Laura intones. They’ll definitely be absent from therapy today. She wonders for a moment how Steve could leave him there, clearly ill and needing help. But then again, how could Steve know? They haven’t been sleeping in the same bed, he’s confided. Bucky spends all day asleep. He’s not communicative. Barely answers his phone. 

She takes out her phone again and shoots off a text to Steve, letting him know the basics of the situation. He replies immediately, thanking her and promising to be home as soon as he can. Then he revises the statement and asks what supplies he needs to bring home from the grocery. Laura sends him a simple list, thanks him, and returns her attention to the lump still shivering under the covers.

“James?” Laura whispers, rounding the bed so she can look him in the face while taking him by both shoulders. Best to ground him in case he’s stuck in fevered delirium.

“Wha… What happened?” Bucky opens his eyes to slits and gives a deep, chesty cough.

“You’re real sick, ok?” Laura tells him. She uses her thumb to wipe the dregs of bile and a fresh sheen of sweat from above his lip. “I’m here to take care of you.”

“I-I…” Bucky pauses. He gulps and goes, if possible, paler. “You… drive me places?”

“Not today.” Laura tries to smile as she shakes her head, but her instincts have her anticipating Bucky’s next move. “How’s your stomach?”

“Wha?” Bucky’s chin tucks toward his chest. His hand claws upward from under the blankets. He begins to sputter, and bright stomach acid run through with greenish mucous spills from his lips. 

Laura quickly slips her hand under his downward-facing cheek to catch the residue. The bed’s already a mess, so she isn’t exactly sure why she bothers, except that it’s a habit, a motherly gesture she can’t remove from her book of automatic motions.

“It’s alright,” Laura murmurs. She waits until Bucky’s finished, then glances toward the ensuite, wondering if it’s alright to leave him long enough to wash up. He’s been on his own all morning, so of course it has to be, but something in her makes her feel as though Bucky’s too fragile to be let out of sight.

“I’m just going to get a few things.” Laura graces Bucky’s cheek with her clean hand, then hurries to the bathroom. She cleans herself at top speed, then pulls all the towels from the racks and takes the trash bin from beside the toilet. 

“James?” she calls on her way back to his bedside. “I’m going to try to make you a little more comfortable.” Laura covers the befouled areas of the bed with a bath towel, then wipes up what’s on the floor. She shows James the bin and instructs him to tell her if he needs it. Then she sets to finding him a clean shirt. 

Once the basics are accomplished, Laura notes James’s shivering. He seems to want to pull back into a ball, but she’d rather he stay relaxed. Then perhaps he’ll rest easier. 

“How about clean blankets?” Laura offers. 

Bucky whines when she pulls the covers off the bed, yanking his knees up to his chest, but a few soft words and a fresh duvet later he goes lax and floppy again as sick tiredness creeps back up on him. 

Laura’s about to take the laundry downstairs to start a load when Bucky startles her with a harsh whisper of, “No. Don’t go.”

She drops the blankets in a pile and practically runs back to the bedside. “Of course.” Laura kneels, ready to offer the bin, or anything else he could possibly want that she’s equipped to give.

“Um.” Bucky blinks, long and languidly. “Thank you.”

“James, it’s nothing.”

“I’m really sorry.” He coughs again, bringing his hand up to the base of his throat, which must be burning.

“I’d never leave you like this,” Laura says, realizing too late that she’s made an accidental dig at Steve. “I mean, once I knew you were sick, I can’t leave you in good conscience.”

Even trembling and foggy with the flu, Bucky catches what Laura carefully didn’t say. “But he left.”

“Steve’s coming home when he can. He’s bringing you soup and Gatorade and medicine.” Laura grabs Bucky’s hand. “I don’t think he knew how you were feeling when he left this morning. I think he’s used to looking in on you, seeing you asleep, and just heading on.”

Bucky barely nods. He looks as though his head is aching, or perhaps he’s on his way to vomiting again.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Laura releases his hand and plumps the pillows for him.

Bucky slowly reclines, then whispers, “Probably should talk about it…”

“You’re right. You probably should.”

“Can you? You’re good at fixing… Making me feel better…”

Laura offers a sympathetic smile and slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry, James. That’s something you’ll have to do for yourself.”

Bucky’s face falls.

“Not right now. Not today,” Laura quickly acquiesces. “Wait till you feel better. I’m sure Steve will step up tonight, and then you might feel a little better about the situation as well.”

“Ok,” Bucky whispers. He looks at Laura, then slowly closes his eyes. “You’re too good, you know?”

“I’m just doing the right thing,” Laura replies. She gets to her feet and gathers the laundry. She heads for the bedroom door, then pauses to take one last look over her shoulder. Bucky’s already sound asleep, the clean white duvet tucked up around his chin, and a hopeful look upon his face.

Laura can’t help but smile a little knowing that at least some of her job has been well done.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve’s been home a couple of hours when he finally talks Laura out the door. She wanted to wait until Bucky woke up before she left for the evening, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to either wake his delicately snoozing love or to keep her there so long past dark on what’s ostensibly a school night.

“I’ve got it under control,” he assures Laura, offering her a can of coke for the road. “He probably needs some food. Fluids. Then I’ll apply Nyquil to hopefully get his fever down.”

Laura nods. “He missed you, you know.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair. Exhaustion hits him like a punch to the gut, but he knows there’s so much more to do. And the first thing is to apologize. First to Laura, then to Bucky.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. He can’t quite look her in the eyes, so he examines the sleek hair pulled over Laura’s shoulder. “I should’ve stayed, I know.”

“But you couldn’t’ve. It’s ok.” Laura squeezes his arm. “I get it. And I think he gets it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Laura nods. “I do. Talk to him when he wakes up. I think he’ll understand.”

Steve bobs his head slowly up and down. “Ok.”

Once Laura’s safely on her way, Steve heads back into the house. He pours Gatorade into a glass and cuts it with water, then throws a few saltines onto a plate. He puts the food and drink on a tray and carries it up to the bedroom to use as a makeshift peace offering. Supposing it’s appealing to Bucky at all.

“Buck?” Steve asks, peering around the door. Bucky has to be awake by now. He’s slept away the better part of the day, and even this beaten down, he needs nourishment.

“Hm?” A weak groan comes from the center of the bed, followed by a slight stirring. 

Steve wavers before turning on the light, but decides it’s for the best. He’d rather See Bucky if they’re going to talk. “Hi,” Steve says as he flips the on switch.

Bucky groans again and rolls the blankets down a few inches to uncover his face. He squints in Steve’s direction, blinking as if he’s unsure what he’s seeing. 

“Yeah, I’m home.” Steve crosses the room to set the tray on the bedside table. He notices the sour-smelling bin on the floor beside the bed and tries to keep from wrinkling his nose. “You still need this?”

“I... I don’t know...” Bucky struggles to sit up, his fever-pink cheeks going pale as he moves from reclined to upright. 

“Here, let me help you.” Steve stabilizes Bucky’s shoulders and plumps a pillow behind him. “There.”

“Th-thanks...”

“Sure.” Steve sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress. He takes a breath, then says, maybe a little too quickly and quietly, “I’m real sorry, Buck. That I had to leave you this morning.”

Bucky blinks, then breathes slowly through his mouth a few times. “You didn’t...”

“I should’ve stayed. I just couldn’t.” Steve puts elbows to knees and covers his face with his hands.

“You didn’t do anything...” Bucky stops to cough.

“I know. I’m sorry--”

“Different from usual.”

“Huh?” Steve lifts his head.

Bucky opens his mouth as if to repeat, but he just breathes out, perhaps too tired to speak again.

Steve cocks his head, not quite sure if he’s getting a reprimand or a reprieve. “I mean... I know. I do that pretty much every day.”

Bucky nods, looking guilty. “’S my fault. I... made the habit.”

“But to not even check on you?” Steve’s stomach drops as he puts voice to it. “I’m so sorry, Buck. That’s on me.”

Bucky just stares at him, his breath gurgling slightly as it goes in and out. He looks reluctant to let the topic drop, though Steve prays that he will. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers. “That I’ve been... bad.”

“That’s -- no, you haven’t,” Steve protests. “You didn’t do that. It sort of... did you, I guess. And I haven’t been sensitive enough to that.”

“You’re fine. I’m--” Bucky breaks off coughing again.

Steve reaches to the bedside table for the glass of Gatorade. “Here,” he says, pressing it into Bucky’s hand. “You need to drink.”

Bucky glares at him for a second, then seems to get the spasming hacks under control enough to take a small sip. 

“Good?” Steve asks when Bucky hands the glass back. 

Bucky nods. “Thanks.” He pauses a moment. Then, “It’s really not you, you know--”

“Stop.” Steve puts up his hand and lays it gently on Bucky’s overwarm chest. “We’ve been having a hard time. Ok? But we’ve acknowledged it, so now we can fix it.”

“Hm.” Bucky nods tentatively. Then he gulps and dives for the bin that’s still beside the bed.

Steve hastens to help him pull it into his lap before the Gatorade comes splashing back up.

“You ok?” Steve asks, patting Bucky on the back.

Bucky nods, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We...we’re gonna fix it?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “We are. But I think we’re gonna fix you, first, though.” 


End file.
